


Hours, Days, Years Ago

by Lorakeet



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M, Nostalgia, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Sadstuck, The kids' memories are wiped after they win the game, dear god why, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorakeet/pseuds/Lorakeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inhale.</p><p>Exhale.</p><p>—</p><p>Dave and Rose look up and try to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hours, Days, Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> apparently angst from an asshole father is also decent inpiration

Inhale.

Exhale.

You open your eyes, looking up to the cerulean of the sky. It reminds you of someone.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It's hot out, your skin just below boiling, your nerves far past fried. Your shades are the only reason why you aren't blind.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Your cousin (though you've always felt more like siblings) touches your arm. "Dave? You were staring off into space again."

Not space, you think. Breath.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry."

She is hesitant to let the matter go. "This sort of absentmindedness has been occurring rather a lot lately, Dave, and it's frankly a bit worrying. You didn't used to be this way."

"I know, Rose, you don't have to tell me," you snap unintentionally.

She frowns, eyebrow to the (lack of) clouds above. "That's another thing, David. Your temper is shorter than I've ever seen it."

"Yeah, maybe," you say, but you know she's right.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"...Rose."

She looks up from the clump of grass she'd been shredding.

"...Do you ever feel like...like you're too tired to have only lived one life? Like, you look at what you're doing and can't help but think 'not this again', even though you know you've never done it before?"

Rose is silent as her gaze slides back to the grass falling between her fingertips, the slightest of summer breezes playing her blonde hair.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"...There was a girl, once." Her voice has the silence of a whisper and the gravity of a secret. "I don't know her name or what she looks like, but I do know that I loved her more than anything."

You smile, not smirk. "I knew someone like that. There were so few things in that world that were mine, but I know he was. And I was his."

Rose nods. "I think I knew a boy like that who loved a boy like you."

You bow your head, smile no longer dry. "I think you did too."

Inhale.

Exhale.

She leans into your side, and you press back against her, and you wonder what his name was.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The wind picks up.

"John," you murmur, "His name is John."

Rose inclines her head, rolling onto her back, watching the stars the are just beginning to come out in the late evening sky. The sky darkens further, seconds becoming minutes becoming hours, days, and years, when finally, she points upward, and you follow her finger.

"Virgo." Her voice is broken and unbroken, shattered and immovable. "She was the one I loved."

You glance down at her then. She looks like she always does with a word on the tip of her tongue, though you know it's her love's name. Not just any old word. A prayer.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You look back up to see the pinpricks of white flare slightly in the sky, winking gently at the pair of you.

"Kanaya." She almost sounds drunk; on what, you'll never be sure.

You nod, sliding your shades from your nose and looking up to where she's reaching now. "She's beautiful."

"Yes," Rose says, "She is."

You sit with your shades hanging in the collar of your shirt, and hope with everything you have that John, the boy you loved, still remembers what it was like to be yours.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You stay with your un-sister that night, in consolation, solidarity, and remembrance. You wake up in her guest room the next morning, yearning to see blue eyes. Instead, you see nothing, no one, and your heart breaks that much more.

—

**Author's Note:**

> oops its too late to apologize


End file.
